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Life Isnt So Bad - FN@F Short Stories

When I think about it, this isn’t so bad. Seeing smiling children by day, wandering around by night. I don’t like that guy in the box though. He keeps closing the door. It’s one of the best hiding places. Hide and seek is boring when you can’t hide in the best place. We go to the doors and BAM! Closed in our faces. Bonnie doesn’t like him either. I don’t know about Freddy though. He doesn’t say much these days. It’s another one of those days and the pizzeria is closing up. One final turn of a key and we’re alone again. Darkness. Bonnie doesn’t like the dark that much. Says that’s when the monsters come and get him. I think he’s just being silly. I can see him now, standing on the stage with his guitar in hand. Poor Bonnie…he hates being here. No nightlight to keep out the shadows. Even the games we play don’t help him now. But I’ll always be there for him. Always. He’s my brother and I will always protect him. No matter who or what tries to get him…

Bonnie It’s dark again. I don’t like the dark. Why do they always turn the lights off when they leave? I don’t like it when they go. All the children leave and then…then they leave too and…we’re all alone again. Chica promises to protect me but I don’t think she can. She’s big and strong and fierce but…I don’t know… I like Freddy. He’s friendly and keeps me company when Chica’s gone off to…do whatever she does in the kitchen… She likes it in there. So does Freddy, but I know what he does. He likes to go and make noise. Freddy is a good singer. He likes to sing and laugh and be merry but doesn’t like being watched either. The man in the box doesn’t know this. Freddy likes the darkness. He likes to hide and curl up and sing to himself. But not when others are watching. Especially the man in the box. And we know he watches us. Those blinking boxes light up when he’s watching us. We don’t know what he wants either. We only want to go and play games…but he’s taken our best hiding spot! Maybe he wants to play too…hm…

Freddy I know that Bonnie and Chica don’t like to be apart. That’s why I don’t get in there way. But I want them to learn. To accept what’s happened. I think Chica is getting there but…I don’t really know about Bonnie. HE doesn’t like the dark. I don’t know how he is going to survive here. Well…clearly he didn’t survive here but that isn’t the point. We don’t talk about that anymore. I once found him curled up, sobbing softly into his paws. I tried to help but Chica had shouted at me, telling me to leave him alone while he was in this state. I went to the kitchen that night too. The blinking box doesn’t light up in there. The man in the box can’t see me. I like to sing in there because he can’t watch me in there. I don’t like being watched. I’m not a socialite. I don’t like having photos taken of me. Too many people can see them then. No one told me that…this place had cameras. I would never have come else…I know I wouldn’t have stayed here… And after that incident…no…I can’t go on camera anymore…I hurt someone and I can’t take that back….I can’t be seen anymore…

Foxy I love my brother. I know he loves me too. But he wants to see the man in the box. I don’t. I don’t like the man in the box. But my brother does. Why can’t he just do what I say and stay in the Cove? He likes to look at the blinking box and he knows that the man is looking back when that little light goes on. I want to stay in the darkness, remain in our little shroud we now call home, but he won’t let us. We have to go and see the man. It isn’t like he’ll let us in. Not ever. He doesn’t let anyone in. Not Bonnie. Not Chica. Not Freddy. No one. But my brother still wants to go and try his luck with him. It doesn’t ever work. SLAM! Doors down before we’re even in the corridor. And it’s back to the Cove we go. He sulks. He hates being hidden. But he’ll have to get used to it. He’ll have to be more careful if he wants to get anything sorted. This jaw won’t break itself. It’s his fault. He ran into that door way too hard and…well…no…

HEADCANONS USED:• Freddy caused the Bite of ’87. A child got too close and he bit down on his frontal lobe, breaking his skull open and mashing that part of his head.• Foxy contains the first two children that were murdered. This is why he both hides and runs at you when you don’t look at the camera enough or look at the camera too much. He has two siblings in him with conflicting personalities: one likes to hide and one likes to be seen. • Bonnie and Chica have siblings in them too, but they were killed at different times so were put in separate suits. This is why they appear at both of the doors and can often be found at the same time there.

Jack knew he wasn’t going to work at Arran’s warehouse on Tuesday. He was going to the funeral of his friend. His sighed as he looked at Patch, pushing his glasses up his nose slowly as he went back to studying his face in the mirror. Not a fleck of coal dust nor speck of grit had come to rest upon it. Strange for smoggy London but that was fine by him.

“I’ll be back soon, Patch. Don’t…don’t do anything…” The automaton craftsman told the non-functional machine. No coal in him. He didn’t have time to fetch any out of the coal shed out back to fuel him that morning.

With a final pat of the automatons’ head Jack padded outside and looked around in the slightly cool morning. He pulled his jacket around his shoulders carefully before going to the stables. No. He shook his head. He couldn’t take Davidos.

Tugging his collar up around his neck to protect himself from the wind, Jack started out into the dank city, not looking up at anyone. So many people on the streets. It was unfair. Why did he get a nice job and a fairly decent house and these people didn’t? However, he knew he could do nothing about it. It was life. City life wasn’t fair.

When he reached the church, a slight frown graced his lips. No one was here yet. Not even Arran and he should have been there first. Wait. There he was.

Sitting on a bench, dressed completely in black, was Arran, head hung and hair flopped across his face. He looked a mess. Maybe it was from the lack of the red coat or the general scruffy appearance, he couldn’t tell, but he certainly didn’t look his best.

There was only a slight movement but Jack saw bloodshot blue eyes looking up at him carefully.

“There is no one else…we are it…” A hoarse voice crackled from the man’s throat. “No one else would come.”

Jack’s face fell. No one…would come? Why?

“How…why would no one come?”

“Myles has no family in London anymore and no one wants to come down to his funeral. His other friends were all killed in the explosion too…”

Someone’s footsteps echoed through the churchyard across the gravel and Jack looked up to see the priest standing by them. He swallowed and looked back to Arran.

“Come on Ar. We gotta do this. For Myles…”

~ ~ ~

Jack sighed as he led Arran out of the church, both of them crying softly. It had been far too quiet for them. Myles had always been full of life and vigor and to have a quiet funeral was just not right for him. They headed down to Arran’s warehouse and sat on two crates of supplies Arran had been saving for their next voyage. That wasn’t going to happen now.

“Come on Arran. What would Myles have wanted you to do in a situation like this, hm? He wouldn’t have wanted you to mope around and do nothing, would he?” Jack eventually sighed to his friend, watching him carefully as he removed his top hat and placed it on the crate beside him. “You can’t keep this up. You look dreadful!”

Arran scowled gently.

“Thanks, Jack. I appreciate that…” He spat, half cross but he was still tired from crying so it was really nothing more than a whisper.

Jack chuckled softly as he leant back against the crates carefully.

“Arran…why don’t we go for a ride, huh? We could do it…bet we could.”

Arran looked up slowly and blinked. His eyes scanned his face and, having decided that he wasn’t making fun of him, sighed.

“We need a crew. I got rid of my last one when I heard about Myles…can’t fly without a crew…”

“No we don’t! We both know enough about flying to be able to pull it off! Come on!” Jack grinned before standing up and heading to the ship, Arran just missing the tail of his coat as he ran past him.

Clambering up the ladder quickly, Jack pulled himself onto the deck and scanned the ropes. This wasn't too complicated. He looked back as Arran followed him up quickly, frowning gently.

“Jack stop!” He huffed, breathless from all the crying coupled with climbing the fairly long ladder to the deck. “You can’t do this!”

“Why can’t I? I think we could do this!” Jack grinned before looking around. “This thing needs a new theme. This won’t do at all!”

The automaton maker wandered around for a while before stopping, looking up at the blimp that hovered above them, ready to carry them high off into the sky as soon as the ropes were loosed.

“That’s what needs changing! That balloon!”

Arran frowned, deep creases forming across his forehead as he shook his head.“No. Myles chose that one. I’m not changing it. Ever…” He told him firmly, but Jack just sighed.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself! You’re tormenting yourself with the thought of your own best friend! If you don’t stop you’re going to tear yourself apart, and Myles would not want that at all! You know that!”

Arran blinked before glancing away. Jack was right. He usually was, actually. He looked up at his friend carefully and swallowed.

“What do we do?”

A slight smile crossed Jack’s lips and he looked up.

“We need something that reminds you of Myles but isn’t…oh I know!” He grinned before running to the ladder and sliding down. “Wait here!”

~ ~ ~

Jack eventually returned with lots of green and black fabric. He explained quickly what they were to do and set about making the new covering. When they were finished they both stepped back to admire their work.

A neatly sewn green cover had been put over the top of the old plain white balloon, lines of black with little black spots beside them down the back end. A cactus.

Cactus was the name of a drug. A powerful drug. The drug that Myles would sell in an evening when he was home early from work. No one could ever find how he did it or where his supply came from, but he was extremely rich because of it. Still, he continued to work in the factory as he didn’t feel that the floor workers were treated well.

“I think that looks good!” Jack beamed happily.

That was it then. Having untied the ropes and moved the ship outside slowly, the two boarded the craft and took to the skies.

In a dark world of slave labour and the poor being used as nothing more than rat food, Jack Chipper works at the better end of the spectrum. But when a close friend of his is killed in a freak factory fire, Jack must continue on like nothing has happened. How long could he last without trying to come to the aid of his closest friends?

~~~

This was the saddest chapter to write. Oh it hurts. Especially because I know what this feels like, what Arran and Jack have to go through at Myles' funeral.

Why do I bother sometimes? I love you guys and you are the reason I continue to post these things, but I've started to see a pattern emerging here. The only things that ever get looked at are Yogscast things. Even the really old rubbish stuff still get favourites. I do not watch the Yogscast anymore. Period. I do not like them as much as I used to and I do not do much art for them anymore. If ever. I like getting comments and favourites. I like getting critiques. I know then how I can improve and make my work better. Please guys. If you see this. Even if you just glance over it quickly. I beg of you, please leave some comment. Please? I want to know what you guys like, dislike, what you would like to see, anything. Just something to tell me that you do still look at my work and I'm not wasting my time with these stories.

Jack looked up at Sean as the shorter man wandered past him for the sixth time that night. It was getting late and the craftsman was growing weary.

“Look Sean…I can’t keep this up. I’m damn tired…” He eventually yawned, glancing away as he removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes.

There was an exasperated sigh from across the room and Sean nodded.

“Fine… How many are working?”

“Seven so far. This is taking longer than I thought it would.”

“Right. Start them up and I’ll get them to sort you out with a room and clothes.”Jack started the seven mechanical servants up and they were sent off to prepare Jack’s sleeping quarters and bring fresh bedclothes for him to wear that night. Jack sat back on his heels and sighed, trying not to rub the slimy oil that covered his fingers on his pristine forest green jacket. He took a rag from his pocket and wiped his forehead of sweat, then his hands before pocketing the cloth again.

“Night then, Sean…see ya tomorrow…” He mumbled sleepily before heading off to bed.

~ ~ ~

Jack awoke to an extremely loud shout from the end of the hallway. What?! He slipped out of bed and peeked outside the see Sean standing in his trousers, glaring around crossly. What was he doing now?

“Bristol!” Sean shouted, loudly. “Where’s my coat?!”

Jack sighed. He woke the rest of the house up for his coat…?

“Sean! Shush! Some of us are tired!” He shouted back as a girl in a long blue tailcoat skittered up the stairs and handed a red jacket to Sean. “Happy now? Go back to bed!”Sean looked at Jack and huffed.

“Some of us have actual jobs to do!” Sean snapped back before heading into his room to get dressed for work.

Jack eventually got up himself. It was two hours later but it was only eight o’clock in the morning so he didn’t mind. Six was a stupid time to get up anyway. Only Sean got up at six to go to work. The automaton craftsman dragged himself down to the cellar where the remaining lifeless automatons stood, staring soullessly at the wall opposite. A shiver ran up Jack’s spine as he set to work on the rest of them then, fixing and tinkering gently with each. As each was finished they came to life and headed off to start their duties for that day. It was creepy to see actually. Jack had made these…creatures. He was like their father. Yet he had grown to hate them so much. It was wrong that such a thing should be able to walk around, act like a human, be as human as a robot could be. It was just wrong to him.

When he was finished, he was tired. The coat had come off not long after he’d started again and he’d gone through several rags, each ending up being burnt in Patch’s furnace stomach. Sean wasn’t back yet, seeing as though it was only half four. He wouldn’t be back till six at the earliest. Jack decided to make himself scarce. He could pick up the payment for this in a couple of days when Sean would have made sure that everything was satisfactory with the upgrades.

Jack grabbed his coat and made for the door, pushing past the servants to get to the hall with Patch in tow. They headed outside into the cool, misty morning that kept the sun from warming the hard ground that they trampled across to get to Davidos. Jack slung his bag over the large horse’s neck before mounting him himself, pulled Patch up and trotted off into the dark streets that would lead him home. He had no work today, partly as it was a Sunday and partly due to the fire that had happened so close to his livelihood. The fire… No. No moping. He had so much more to do than mope about being sad. He’d seen Arran in such a state and was not going to fall into the same pitfall.

The sun just managed to peek through the thick fog as Jack reached his small home in the London suburbs. He took Davidos around to the community stables where all horses on his complex were left. Davidos looked like a shining star, perfect and clean, compared to the rest of the mangy horses kept in there by the others. He couldn’t call them friends. They hardly ever talked as most of them just came home drunk in an evening and wouldn’t emerge again into the sun set the night after their return. He lifted Patch from the saddle then the supple leather seat from his horse’s broad back. No point risking that being stolen too. He’d had the misfortune of leaving his saddlebag on a post one evening and not even a scrap of leather remained when he came back.

Trudging up the cold stone stairs, Jack just managed to drag himself up into the dark hallway that led to his home. He pushed his way into the door that never quite opened properly. Having set his bag on the counter in the miniature kitchen he flopped into his seat heavily, Patch whirring over to him and sitting on the floor beside him, slowly fizzling down as his coal supply and the energy made wore thin for that day. Jack stroked the tiny robot’s head before he curled up. With no nice bed to cuddle into like he had at Sean’s the previous night he had to make do with the very uncomfortable plush chair his father had given him in his will.

“Night Patchy…” The automaton maker mumbled before he drifted into a light sleep.

~ ~ ~

Jack stirred at the crack of dawn the next day and sniffed. He put a hand to his head before checking his pocket watch. Half seven. Good. Not late.

As he sat up he stretched out carefully, readjusting his goggles on his forehead slowly as he reached out for his glasses. Placing the small, silver framed glasses on his nose, he stroked Patch’s head tenderly before going to make some breakfast. Toast. Nothing else. He couldn’t be bothered and didn’t have time. As he nibbled at the burnt piece of thin cut bread he began to shovel coal into Patch’s furnace, humming gently to himself. Once everything was ready he went outside, saddled Davidos and they trotted off towards the workshop. As the workshop came into view, Jack couldn’t help but look at the smouldering remains of the factory. Myles was in there somewhere…oh gosh. He shook his head and dismounted Davidos, stabling him before heading into the workshop.

It was a quiet day up until Jack was about to leave and the door burst open, Sean storming into the dark building with a girl in tow.

“Jack what did you do to my servants?! Not one of them is working properly anymore!” The business owner snapped. “They’re going haywire!”

Jack frowned.

“They shouldn’t be. I made sure they all worked properly before I left. It is the reason I left!” He replied quickly.

Sean sighed as the girl placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jack recognised her as that girl who had brought Sean his coat when he had shouted for her. What was her name? Bristol? Sounded about right. Weird name for a girl but Jack was not one to question parents of this day and age. She seemed alright. Shorter than Sean, shoulder length brown hair that fell in near ringlets, a set of golden goggles propped on her forehead, that same dark blue tail coat with the delicate golden trim around the edges.

“Sir, getting angry will not help!” She told him sharply.

Sean huffed before a soft sigh escaped his lips. He looked at Jack, shrugging ever so slightly.

“Gotta keep them around for something!” He smirked, flinching as he received a smack around his head for that remark. “Hey!”

Jack chuckled slightly and pushed his glasses up his nose slowly.

“Well I can come and mend them again. It will cost you more though. I got to make a living too!” He told Sean, propping himself on the edge of his workbench gently. “It’d be an extra £50 per servant. How many you got? Thirty? What’s that then? Erm…I make it…£1,500. Seem reasonable to you?”

Sean huffed but nodded.

“You won’t go any further down than that, so yes. That’s fine. When can you come back?”Jack licked his lips gently as he thought.

“I’m back at Arran’s tomorrow. Got to go to the DS Factory the day after…so is Thursday any good for you?” He replied, taking a little planner out of his pocket and flicking through it quickly to Thursday. Yep. Nothing on.

Sean contemplated this for a while before sighing.

“I guess that’s fine. Can’t think of anything I could have on… Nope. I think you’re safe to come then. I’ll be at work but the housekeeper will let you in. Or this one,” He said, nodding to Bristol who sniffed gently and nodded.

“Alright. Thursday it is. I’ll see you then, Sean!” Jack grinned as he jotted it down and, by the time he looked up, Sean had vanished in the smoggy London morning. Jack moved then and sat down carefully on the soft wooden chair, leaning back on it against the workbench as his eyes slid closed. He didn’t know what could have gone wrong with them. Normally only one or two malfunctioned, but a whole team of thirty all at once? That was unheard of to even the most novice craftsman. How had he managed that? Oh well. These things happened sometimes. Just had to go back and fix things.

In a dark world of slave labour and the poor being used as nothing more than rat food, Jack Chipper works at the better end of the spectrum. But when a close friend of his is killed in a freak factory fire, Jack must continue on like nothing has happened. How long could he last without trying to come to the aid of his closest friends?

~~~

I'd like to thank the lovely for poof reading this for me as I am apparently a useless sod and cannot spell or grammer. Enjoy this while you can. Chapter 3 isn't as pleasant.

Jack sighed as he watched the fire raging from the factory. The whole building was tumbling in on itself now and it didn’t show any signs of stopping. He sighed softly again before heading back into his workshop, knowing that he couldn’t help any of those trapped in the burning building that had provided so many jobs to the poor and homeless. Yes, it wasn’t that the best by far. But it was better than staying on the streets, especially in the cold winter that was starting to grasp London in its midst.

The soft clinking and grinding sounds that emanated from the workshop told Jack that his little Patch was finally up. Well, he was finally burning coal again. Stupid machine kept breaking down or freezing up, giving Jack more work than the automaton maker really wanted or even needed at that point. A lot of high members of society sought the experienced and clever metal worker for his skill and efficiency when it came to the art of automaton crafting. His soft blue eyes fell on the little robot, no taller than his waist, and he sighed.

“Come on Patch. We gotta get to Sean’s before he goes loopy again…” he mumbled quietly before heading off to find his horse.

~ ~ ~

The first Jack heard of Myles’ death was in the long list of those killed in the fire. No other news was given yet to anyone, except the families of those who died. It was on a routine visit to Arran to service his airships guns that he found out about his friend’s death.

Arran as uncharacteristically quiet that day, never looking at Jack and generally staying in the back of the enormous warehouse his ship was stored in. The few glimpses he caught of his close friend’s face showed he had been crying, cheeks flushed pink and usually playful blue eyes blood shot and red.

“Come on, Ar. Something is clearly wrong. You’re not fooling anyone here!” Jack eventually grew sick of him moping about without any, apparent, rhyme or reason.

Arran looked up at him slowly and swallowed.

“Myles…Myles was killed in the factory explosion…right close to the source too…”

His once cheerful, happy voice was now low, gravelly, full of a sick sadness and hollow grief for the loss of his close friend and co-pilot.

Jack stared for a moment before he swallowed, looking to his perfectly polished black leather shoes.

“O-oh…I…I’m so sorry, Ar…I…I didn’t realise…” he mumbled. Of course. Myles had worked in the factory for a long time. Senior member of staff and everything. He was in a high position, but was kind to those he over saw on the factory floor.

No other words were exchanged. Arran went off again to ‘look at something on the ship’. Jack knew where he was going. He was going to cry. Arran, for all his sweet and caring and playful traits, could be read so easily when he was upset about something. The automaton craftsman finished up what he was doing and looked at Patch who was carrying his bag of spare parts. The two looked back to the ship for a brief moment.

“See…see ya later, Ar…” Jack called softly before the two of them, the craftsman and his craft, walked back out to Jack’s horse, Davidos. It was starting to get dark and the first glimpses of pinprick lights were fading into view. Jack liked the stars. What lay beyond the glowing orbs in the sky he saw every night? He wanted to know. Wanted to touch the stars, float around the planets, watch them orbit the life bringing sun like the orrery did in the workshop. His father had made that orrery for his star-dazed son and he still had it. So he could always be near the stars when he was at work.

Jack lifted Patch up onto the specially designed section of the saddle he’d had the leather workers make for his little helper before mounting Davidos himself. He kicked off quickly and headed towards the mansion of the illustrious Sean Magmason, one of the richest men in all of London and owner of Magmason Co.

~ ~ ~

The large gates opened to the grand mansion of Sean. The polished marble building seemed to glow against the dark, rain filled sky. Each tiny hedge was neat, trimmed so not a single was branch was out of place. The tidy gravel path didn’t look like it had ever been used, despite the near constant traffic from visiting dignitaries.

“At least he keeps good staff…” Jack mumbled softly, half to himself and half to Patch who let off a tiny puff of smoke in response. At least he thought of it as a response. He could just be expelling excess fumes that had built up.

Jack took Davidos to the stables around the side of the mansion and tethered him before heading around to the enormous doors. He knocked forcefully on the lion’s head door knocker and stepped back, Patch sitting on the cold marble slabs that formed stairs. It took a few moments before a servant girl opened the doors, watching him with tender green eyes.

“Yes sir?” she said softly.

Jack sighed softly.

“I’m here to see Sean about some machinery upgrades?”

“Of course sir. This way.”

Jack padded in after the girl, Patch clanking through the painting laden halls noisier than anything else in the near silent mansion. Jack watched the small girl as she stopped at a large, polished door. How she knew which the right one was beyond him. All the doors looked the same to him, but she must have known as the soft sounds of a quill scratching on parchment could just be made out from inside. No. He had programmed her like that. They all were. She knocked then before opening the door.

“Sir, someone is here to see you about the machinery upgrades.”

“Come in!” A soft spoken Newcastle accented voice called out to them.

Jack nodded to the girl before he walked into the office, Patch trotting on short sturdy legs after him quickly.

Inside sat a dark haired man, writing in large swooping lettering on the inside cover of a very thick book. His book. He looked up slowly and pushed his slightly too large gold rimmed glasses up his nose carefully. He looked suave and sophisticated but a slightly childish grin was sprayed across his thin lips. As he stood up he showed that he really was not all that tall, just shoulder height on the five foot nine inch tall Jack. He was clad in a slightly baggy red suit, but it looked good.

“Good evening Jack!” Sean grinned softly, offering him his hand.

Jack shook it gently before looking around.

“You having an upgrade in general or just the mechanics of your servants?” He sighed softly.

Sean laughed as he stepped around the desk and perched on the edge of it.

In a dark world of slave labour and the poor being used as nothing more than rat food, Jack Chipper works at the better end of the spectrum. But when a close friend of his is killed in a freak factory fire, Jack must continue on like nothing has happened. How long could he last without trying to come to the aid of his closest friends?

I finally started it. This is my new project. Welcome to Dark Times, a Steampunk series staring TycerX, FormallyMyles, Magmamale and the one and only PlanetChip. A few of my friends will be appearing in this as well as members of LXG, but this is centred around these four the most.

Why do I bother sometimes? I love you guys and you are the reason I continue to post these things, but I've started to see a pattern emerging here. The only things that ever get looked at are Yogscast things. Even the really old rubbish stuff still get favourites. I do not watch the Yogscast anymore. Period. I do not like them as much as I used to and I do not do much art for them anymore. If ever. I like getting comments and favourites. I like getting critiques. I know then how I can improve and make my work better. Please guys. If you see this. Even if you just glance over it quickly. I beg of you, please leave some comment. Please? I want to know what you guys like, dislike, what you would like to see, anything. Just something to tell me that you do still look at my work and I'm not wasting my time with these stories.

deviantID

I am Bristol Elliot the III. I live in England, and am just a hobbyist really. I would like to get into digital art, and have started some pixel work, but am only a beginner. I mostly do traditional art, paper and pencils being my favoured artsy equipment. I am a gamer, and game drawer. I play Minecraft, Sims and all sorts of other shizel. I also draw Minecraft people a lot, doing my favourite Youtubers mostly. My Youtube account is AngelEatingDevil, and my Minecraft name is Warrior_Carbia, for anyone interested. I have no videos to my name yet, but am planning on a little something with my friends. I make avatars for fun, too.

Dearest to my hearts friends:- Wonderful friend who I can't say a bad word about ever. - My Xephos obsessed buddy and lovely girl- One of my only real life friends on here. All round awesome and slowly being converted into a brony! I will have my way, wether you like it or not!- Roleplaying friend and all round lovely lady. - This girl is mental. Nothing more to say about her...shesholdingmehostage!sendhelps!Peace, my friends!Alexxxx

Quotes from conversations with peoples!:"I'M JUST GONNA' DROWN MY SORROWS IN CALYPSO NOW!"/"So, you're going to face plant into an ice cream?"-random conversation with MagicCrystal

Comments

I don't know if you noticed, but I sent you the lines for the first scene on the Lalna roleplay account!You don't have to do this right now since it's all one big speech, but in future, I'd prefer you to record each line individually and zip them up because that makes it easier but if you don't know how to do that that's fine! For now, you can just send it as an mp3 to contactruff@gmail.com. Hope you're okay <3

Hey, I was reading your stories as they are awesome.But is there any way of finding the Seeing Double, chapter 1. As the person you wrote it with isn't there anymore.Anyway, I love your stories, gonna go read more.(Here's a llama)x